Unbelievable
by imafuckingparadox
Summary: Hermione's fallen hard for Draco Malfoy. When Harry and Ron decide to hook them up, they use an unusual spell to compel Draco to get romantic with Hermione. Sometimes, things go wrong. And sometimes, things get funny. Rated M for language/smut.
1. Chapter 1

**Unbelievable**

**Chapter 1**

**A/N:**

****Well, it's been a long time since I've written a Harry Potter fanfic... I'm going to try to make this once funny, but frankly I'm not a very funny person, so I'm sorry if I disappoint. Hopefully you'll still enjoy the plot. Speaking of, here are some quick facts about "Unbelievable":

Setting: Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Main characters: Hermione G. and Draco M.

Secondary characters: Harry P., Ron W., Pansy P., and Blaise Z.

Genre: Romance/Comedy.

Length: Min. 8 chapters.

Warning: There **will **be coarse language and smut. The characters **will **be OOC. In this story, Harry's really cheeky and Ron's got a short temper. Haha.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. Though I strongly wish I did :(

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry Potter nudged his best friend with his elbow. Ron was startled awake, shaking the sleepy haze out of his eyes.

"Wha—I'm awake, I'm awake!" he spluttered. "What's happening?"

"Ron! Listen. I've just found this brilliant spell, look." Harry pointed repeatedly at his Charms textbook.

He rubbed his eyes, then glared at Harry. "Is that what you've fucking woken me up for? A _spell?_" he sighed.

Ron momentarily checked to make sure Professor Flitwick was too busy droning on about the lesson to notice them discussing something else. As a matter of fact, Ron noticed, all his classmates had their attention focused on anything _but _the Charms lesson. All except one, of course. Hermione Granger would never pass up an opportunity to learn about something she'd already memorized weeks before returning to Hogwarts.

He rolled his eyes at her perfect posture and look of pure concentration amid the sea of uninterested, half-asleep students. Always the over-achiever, she was.

His gaze was locked on Hermione for so long that Harry had to flick his nose to get his attention.

"Oww," Ron muttered through gritted teeth.

"Will you just listen? The textbook says this spell can—" Harry stopped and sighed. "Why are you staring at her like that, Ron?"

The ginger boy turned to his friend and sucked in a sharp breath. "Remember what she talked to us about in the train?"

"About her fancying..." Harry whispered.

"Right, yeah. D'you think we should help her?"

Harry glanced at Hermione, then focused on Ron. "You're not jealous?"

"Can you not answer my question with another question?"

"You didn't answer _my _question."

"I asked the first _bloody question_," Ron retorted, a bit too loudly. Professor Flitwick paused mid-sentence, and the two boys gave him awkward, apologetic smiles until he resumed. They noticed Hermione glaring at them from across the room for having interrupted the lesson. Harry and Ron were both thinking the same thing: they would be getting shit from her after class. And they were both just as anxious about it. Hermione was fuckin' scary as fuck when she was mad.

"Help her with what, exactly?" Harry asked, still peering cautiously at Hermione.

"You know... help her _get with it_."

"You douchebag."

"What?"

"You used the term wrong. This isn't the freaking seventies. Honestly, Ron, the term is _get some_, not _get with it_." Harry shook his head and laughed.

"All right, all right," Ron said, hanging his head, "you don't have to be a prick about it."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh, did I hurt your feelings? All right, we'll go get you a lollipop later. I hear you're very good at sucking things. The lads were talking about it yesterday in the men's room," he mocked, then let out a loud groan as Ron punched him in the chest.

"_Mr Weasley._ Control yourself, please. If you cannot, I must ask you to leave my classroom immediately."

"No, Professor, I think I'll stay. But cheers for the offer."

Flitwick ignored that last bit of attitude and added, "One more peep out of you and you're out," before turning to the chalkboard.

Ron glared at Harry before resuming their discussion. "We should help her get somewhere with him. You know, do what we can to get them together."

"But... he's a git."

"Of course he is," Ron quickly agreed. "But Hermione's our best friend. I think we sort of owe it to her."

Harry mulled this over for a moment. "And—what about _your _feelings?" he asked carefully.

"My feelings?"

"Yeah, you know, your feelings about spreadable butter. Do you think it's a good idea? Because I hear they've got all sorts of shitty chemicals in what the fuck is wrong with you? 'What about my feelings?' Your feelings for Hermione, you wanker. I know you like her. Hell, the whole school knows."

Ron sighed. "Look. Now that she likes _him_, it's obvious I've got no chance. So I might as well just get over her." He gave a shy smile, gazing at Hermione. "Besides, I just want her to be happy, even if it's not with me."

"Aw, isn't that just the cutest thing I've heard a billion times over."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Make me."

"I _will _make you."

Harry slapped his own chest with both hands. "Come at me, bro."

Ron placed his hand flat on his friend's face and pushed him. Harry flew off his chair and tumbled to the floor.

"Mr Weasley!"

Ron turned to Professor Flitwick and threw his hands in the air. "Yeah, yeah, all right. I'm bloody leaving. Keep your knickers on." He slid his books into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, his chair scraping against the floor as it slid back.

Harry, still sprawled out on the ground, scrambled to his feet and picked up his textbook. He widened his eyes innocently at the professor and mumbled an awkward, "I'll just—go with him."

As he followed his best friend to the door, an older student who was dating a third-year yelled, "Looks like Weasley's gonna get another Howler from his mummy!"

Ron turned to him, still walking backwards and said, "Hey, Gregory, remind me, cause I always seem to forget. On a scale of one to ten, how old is your girlfriend?"

Harry faced Gregory as well and laughed with his tongue dangling out like a dog's. Together, Ron and Harry gave that fucker the finger and with that, they left the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

* * *

Once in the hallway, Harry crouched against the wall and placed his hands on his knees.

"Fuck, I never get tired of pissing people off."

Ron grinned, then started laughing. "Wish I could've punched that tosser in the face. I find it to be very satisfying."

Harry straightened up and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Some other time," he said.

They started heading back to their dormitory. They were both quiet for a while, each wondering about different things. Ron's train of thought was still circling the whole Hermione business, while Harry was thinking about the spell he had wanted to show his friend.

Ron was the one who brought it up. "So, that spell?"

"Right, yeah. It's this spell, see—"

"I got that. What the fuck's so special about it?"

"Do you _want _me to shove my wand up your ass?"

"I'd like to see you try."

"Wouldn't be the first time something was shoved up your rear end, ey?"

"You would know."

Harry raised his eyebrows at him. "Do you realise what you just said—"

"Yeah, I know—"

"Look, Ron, I like you and all—"

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"—but you're just not my type, I mean—"

"Shut the fuck up, I'm not gay."

"I mean I like vagina." Harry's voice echoed through the hall. Both boys threw their heads back and laughed, punching each other playfully.

"Just tell me about this fucking spell."

Harry sobered up and finally explained. "What it does is it lets you etch a sort of tattoo on other people."

"And?"

"And the tattoo has to be made up of words that dictate an order."

"Interesting..."

"Oh, but it gets better. The tattoo only comes off once you've done what it says."

"So," Ron said, slowing his pace, "you can make people do things for you by printing an order on their skin?"

Harry stopped completely. He leaned against the wall. "Well, you can't really _make _them do it—"

"You just have to make sure the tattoo is placed somewhere they don't want it," Ron continued for him.

"So they would be forced to obey in order to get the tattoo removed," Harry finished, nodding slowly.

"That is _very _interesting."

Harry grinned maliciously. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"They're serving pudding at dinner tonight?" Ron asked, his eyes twinkling.

"No, you fucker! We can use this spell on—"

Ron gasped suddenly, his jaw dropping. "On Malfoy!"

"Exactly." Harry smiled. "It's perfect. We get to mess with Malfoy _and _we help Hermione be with the guy she likes."

Ron nodded, seeming to like the idea. "Brilliant. We'll start tomorrow."

"Draco Malfoy," Harry said to the otherwise empty hallway, "prepare to fall in love with Miss Hermione Granger."


	2. Chapter 2

**Unbelievable**

**Chapter 2**

**A/N: **Chapter 2, woo! I would like to thank you all for adding "Unbelievable" to your story subscriptions, and a special thank you to everyone who reviewed. I was listening to "It's Time" by Imagine Dragons while writing this... It's a really great song, so if you wanna listen to that while reading this, I promise it fits pretty well :) Anyways, without further a do, I present to you, the second chapter of "Unbelievable". Enjoy! :)

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat in the Great Hall listening to Dumbledore give his pre-dinner speech. He sighed loudly, exchanging looks with Vincent Crabbe, who sat directly opposite him. It felt as if the old man had been droning on for ages, until he mercifully announced, "May the feast begin!"

Within seconds, every plate in the room was loaded with various foods, and conversations filled with laughter erupted throughout the Great Hall. Blaise Zabini, who sat beside Draco, was discussing Quidditch with Crabbe and Goyle when Draco reached out to grab his goblet of water.

While his arm was fully stretched out, he noticed a black pattern on the back of his hand. He instantly retracted it, placing his hand on his lap under the table. He made sure everyone around him was still engrossed by the discussion before inspecting his hand.

They were letters. No, not just letters—words. They were printing themselves on his skin by an invisible hand. Draco tried frantically to shake them off, but the words continued to draw out. Finally, they formed a sentence. Draco gasped, then clamped his mouth shut, but luckily no one had heard him over the roar of the students' chatter.

Malfoy closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. He drew in a deep breath, looked down at his hand, and exhaled sharply in disappointment. Those disgusting words were still there. That appalling sentence.

With his hand still on his lap, he rubbed it with his right hand, trying to brush the words off. He scrubbed and scrubbed until the back of his hand turned red and his whole body was shaking with frustration. But he didn't relent. He kept at it, and for a moment he looked up to see if he had finally caught someone's attention—and he had.

Crabbe had his eyes narrowed at Draco's crotch, and when he noticed Draco watching him, their eyes met. Malfoy smiled awkwardly, trying to assure Crabbe that nothing was wrong. As he did, Crabbe's own mouth twisted into a mischievous smile, and he winked playfully. Draco was baffled for a moment, then it suddenly dawned on him as to why his friend was staring at his crotch. While he was hurriedly scrubbing his hand, Draco must've looked like he was _masturbating_. His eyes widened at this realization, and he was suddenly very creeped out by Crabbe. Draco stood abruptly, mumbled something about going to the bathroom, and ran out of the Great Hall.

* * *

Malfoy splashed cold water on his face, shut off the faucet and shook his head vigorously. The sound of the last few drops of water hitting the sink echoed in the huge bathroom. But then, another sound replaced the first one. It was the slow _click-clack _of the Hogwarts school shoes hitting the tiled floor. Draco turned on the spot and found himself face-to-face with Vincent Crabbe.

"What are you doing here, Crabbe?" Draco grumbled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Rememering the tattoo, he threw his arm behind his back.

Crabbe walked deliberately toward his blond friend. "I saw you in the Great Hall..." he whispered with a smile.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Saw what, exactly?"

At this point, their faces were a mere five inches apart. Draco had backpedaled right into the sink, and he leaned back as Crabbe came even closer. The round-faced boy's eyes were crinkled around the edges. They had a malicious glint to them. "Let's just say, I've been waiting for this for six years," he said, and he leaned in to kiss Draco.

Draco's hand slapped Crabbe across the face before his lips met their target. The blow was so hard that he fell to the floor.

"What the _fuck _is wrong with you?" Draco yelled down at him. He stepped away from his friend and watched as Crabbe rubbed the back of his head with a pained look on his face.

"In—in the Hall! You were _wanking! _And you looked at me like that... then you said you were going to the washroom, so I thought—"

Draco's face twisted in horror. "You thought I wanted you to _follow me?_ You disgusting little fat bastard! I'm not _gay_! You've gone absolutely mad," he said, pacing the room and shaking his head. He stopped in his tracks and threw his arms out. "And since when are you gay?" he shouted.

"I'm not! Well, most of the time at least," Crabbe started saying in a rush. "I mean, I like girls more than lads, but if _you _ever asked me to do it... Well, let's face it, Draco, you're irresistible, even to guys. I mean, just look at your body, and I bet your prick—"

"SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP!" Draco screamed, placing his hands on his ears, then waving them in the air. "Fuck, Crabbe. I'd rather sleep with that Mudblood _Granger _than sleep with a bloke!"

Suddenly, Draco was reminded of the tattoo on his hand. He closed his eyes and sighed, frustrated to no end. "Just stay away from me for the next few days, Crabbe." And with that, he walked out, leaving the big fat kid alone on the bathroom floor.

* * *

Draco fell heavily into the mattress of his four-poster bed and buried his face in his hands. He racked his brains for any explanation as to what this tattoo was, but to no avail. He resolved to hit the Library and rifle through as many books as it took until he found the spell that was cursing him.

After three hours of endless page-turning, he found it. _Temporaria Servus—_temporary slave. That's not demeaning at all, he thought sarcastically. He read on and sighed, cursing quietly under his breath. He had to do what the tattoo said, otherwise it would never come off.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Draco slammed the book shut. His hair was all messed up from running his fingers through it over and over again. He assumed he looked like shit after spending hours pouring over spellbooks. He stood, slid the book in its place, and as he turned around, he ran right into someone.

She squealed, dropping her humongous pile of books on the floor. They both bent down at the same time to pick them up. Draco was so distraught that he hadn't thought to look up and see who he'd run into. He felt her eyes on him as they picked up the last of the books, and when he finally met her gaze, he understood why she was watching him.

"S-sorry, I didn't see you there," Hermione began, but Draco cut her off.

Draco quickly looked away. He drew in a sharp breath and muttered, "Don't worry about it, Hermione," as he walked off.

Hermione watched him walk away, stunned into silence. Had he just called her _Hermione?_

* * *

Draco Malfoy was dressed in black pants, along with a black cardigan. The corridors were relatively dark, and he wanted to blend into the shadows. He tried to avoid being seen by too many people. They'd ask him why he was holding a rose, try to pry into his business. And sure enough, someone did, althought it wasn't anyone he was expecting.

"Mr Malfoy," Snape droned. He stopped just before Draco, his hands behind his back. His hooked nose looked even more hideous from where Draco was standing. He peered at the flower he was holding. "A rose? Since when do you show affection to any of the girls you frequent?"

"Since when is it any of your business?" Draco snapped.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Don't snap at me, you little twit. As a professor, I have the right to ask any question I want, and _you _are required to answer me. Who is that rose for?"

Draco grinded his teeth together, wondering why Snape was choosing today to be an arsehole. Usually, the two of them got along quite well. Snape must've been having a bad day. Maybe Potter had gotten under his skin.

Draco's mind reeled, searching for a name, _any _name other than Granger's. He glanced over Snape's shoulder and saw Pansy turning the corner with a friend of hers.

"Pansy," he said quickly, and started weaving his lie. "It's for Pansy Parkinson. We've been seeing each other lately, and she's a Slytherin as well..." Draco broke off, noticing that Snape had lost interest.

The greasy-haired professor stood by and watched as Pansy approached them. Draco faked a smile, handed Pansy the rose and choked out, "I thought... you might like this."

Pansy blushed, then turned to her friend and they giggled together. Draco took the opportunity to spin on his heel and run.

* * *

Once Draco had retrieved a _new fucking rose—_he rolled his eyes at his luck—, he wandered the corridors until he found her. She was walking back from the Library to her common room. He watched her for a while, feeling a bit nervous. He didn't understand why. He hated Granger, he always had. And he was certain she loathed him as well. Whoever had put this spell on him was an awful, cruel bastard. He hated being forced into things, especially things he never would have done in a million years. And yet here he was, completely helpless, forced to give a rose to one of his enemies. And he was nervous.

It made no sense whatsoever. He'd been with plenty of girls, so many in fact that he'd lost count. But none of them had made Draco's stomach twist in the way Hermione did.

No, not Hermione. _Granger._ He had to call her Granger. He couldn't get attached to her. He couldn't allow himself to even _think _of—

"Malfoy? Are you following me?"

She had turned around and seen him walking a few paces behind her.

There was a lump in his throat. He didn't want to go through with this. But he had to. Hiding that tattoo was not an option. He dragged his feet forward, until he stood a few paces away from her. He extended the rose between them and said mumbled, "Here, this is for you."

Hermione took it slowly, and she narrowed her eyes at him, a confused look clouding her face. He also noticed a pink blush staining her cheeks. He almost laughed at how funny she looked, then shook himself mentally and walked away.

He had only taken a few steps when he stopped and checked his hand. He waited for the inscription to fade, but it didn't. Instead, another one appeared under it.

_Give Hermione a compliment._

Fuck. He closed his eyes and controlled his temper. He turned around and walked back up to her. She still hadn't moved.

Draco slid his hands in his pockets and bit his lip, avoiding her gaze. She waited patiently. He looked her in the eyes and said, "I, uh... I like your hair." He nodded approvingly. "It's very... bushy."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "And you like that?"

"Sure. I mean, I love bushes!" he said, a little too loudly. Then, suddenly realising what he'd said, he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. "Wait, that came out wrong—"

"It's okay," Hermioen grinned. "It's okay if you like hairy bushes, I'm not going to judge you."

"No, it's—" He stopped and sighed in frustration. Hermione was laughing, and he couldn't help but join her. Too soon, though, he caught himself and realised just how bad all this was. He couldn't laugh _with _Granger. It was unthinkable, he just couldn't

"I have to go," he said quickly.

"Unbelievable," Hermione muttered, watching his retreating figure.

As he ran back to his dormitory, Draco saw that the black ink had faded.

It was gone.

He was free.

Hopefully, if he was lucky, it wouldn't come back.

Too bad he wasn't a very lucky person.

* * *

Harry and Ron covered their mouths with their hands, trying hard to stifle their howls of laughter. They high-fived each other and grinned. They stood just around the corner, in a corridor adjacent to where Hermione and Draco had had their little awkward conversation.

Once they had regained their composure, they looked at each other.

"So, what next?" Ron asked.

There was a pause, and they both answered his question at the same time.

"A date," they said in unison, mischievous smiles creeping onto their faces.


	3. Chapter 3

**Unbelievable**

**Chapter 3**

**A/N: **Chapter 2 did very well! Thank you for the reviews :) I expect more from you guys on this chapter soo.. enjoy!

* * *

Draco woke up on Thursday morning to the sound of Blaise thrashing in his bed, beside his. Blaise was groaning loudly, as if having a nightmare. Draco's suspicions were confirmed when he started yelling, "Pansy, hop of my dick, will you? _I'm not—having—sexwithyou!" _He started flailing his arms around wildly, trying to push an imaginary whore off of him. Draco rolled his eyes and stifled a laugh. Pansy was so pathetic, trying to sleep with any guy who so much as looked at her.

Blaise's face contorted in disgust, and he continued muttering unintelligible insults while the blond boy watched him, grinning widely. The smile fell off his face, though, the moment Blaise woke up, rubbed his eyes groggily and panted, "Draco? What's that on your forehead?"

Draco's hand flew to his forehead as he hastily convinced Blaise to go back to sleep. You're dreaming, it's all just a dream, he told him. Then he dashed into the bathroom and his heart dropped into his stomach when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

Draco gripped the edges of the sink and rested his head on the cool glass of the mirror. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck!" he swore through gritted teeth, so many times he lost count. He became hysterical. "Why do these things happen to _me, _why do people make me _suffer?" _And then a more important question came to mind. _Which fucking asshole is doing this to me? _

His list of suspects was short. It couldn't possibly be a Slytherin, a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw, seeing as they were all scared of him. They knew what his father would do if they messed with him. Besides, he was friends with most of the Slytherins, and he never made contact with the other two Houses.

That left the Gryffindors.

It had to be one of them.

More likely, _two _of them.

Weasley and Potter. Prime suspects.

But he didn't have any proof. If he confronted them, they'd probably suck up to McGonagall, who would call Dumbledore, and everyone knew the old man had a gay crush on Potter. He'd take his lover's side, and Weasley would never let Draco live that one down. No, he wasn't going to confront them just yet. He needed time. He needed proof. And fast.

* * *

Draco wore a beanie to breakfast. He looked absolutely fucking ridiculous, but what choice did he have? Letting everyone see what it said on his forehead? Not an option.

Of course, Blaise made fun of him for it. Crabbe and Goyle snickered along with him, but they were much more afraid of Draco than Blaise was.

At a certain point, he'd had enough of Blaise telling him his head looked like a condom, so he shot back, "Speaking of condoms, you shag anybody last night, Zabini? A certain _Pansy, _maybe?"

Blaise's face drained of color, which, if you really think about it, is kind of impossible, considering how dark his skin tone is... but anyways, his smile faded instantly. Draco smirked, raising his eyebrows, and continued in a girly voice, "Did somebody get in Pansy's pantsies?"

Blaise dropped his fork. "Can you not say that _so loud?" _he muttered, his eyes widening. Then it suddenly dawned on him. "Last night. My nightmare... you heard me?" He looked upset.

Malfoy raised my hands defensively. "Hey, _you _woke me up, and _you _were talking in your sleep. Wasn't my fault. Anyway," he said calmly, "you make fun of me, I make fun of you. Now we're even."

"My nightware was worse than your new look," he grumbled, looking down at his plate.

Draco laughed. "What's so scary about a girl wanting to shag you? It should've been a _good _dream—"

His head snapped up. "Hey! She wasn't exactly _normal _in the dream, okay?"

Malfoy was intrigued. Crabbe, Goyle and Draco all leaned forward in their seats.

"What was wrong with her?"

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

He mumbled something quietly, chewing on a piece of toast. Malfoy grabbed it from him and threw it across the room. It must've hit someone in the face, because he heard a yelp from another student.

"Speak up, Zabini," he ordered.

Blaise sighed, looked up at the ceiling and shuddered. "She had a penis."

They dropped their forks and erupted into fits of laughter, leaning far back and covering their mouths with their hands. Their sudden outburst earned them a few dirty looks from other students, but _who cares?_

Draco leaned forward, still grinning, and said, "Blaise, you're golden."

He barely had time to register Zabini's expression before he left the table and strode to his first class, anticipating the events of his last class of the day. Transfiguration. The class he shared with Granger.

* * *

As he exited the Transfiguration classroom, he turned right and waited by the door until she emerged. When she did, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards him. She gasped and he widened his eyes at her, willing her to keep her mouth shut.

He kept his back to the rush of students still leaving the classroom and started yelling loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Listen, Granger. You'd better learn to stay away from me. You're a filthy little Mudblood, and people like you and me aren't supposed to _mix_, if you know what I mean." A few Slytherins glanced over their shoulders at them and laughed with Draco. He smirked, giving her the meanest look he could muster. "As if I would ever be caught dead..." And he broke off once he was certain the hallway was empty.

She tried to push past him, but he pressed her against the wall and placed his hands on either side of her head, his arms forming a sort of restraint. He clenched his jaw and finally managed to say, "Look at me, Granger."

She turned her face to him and he noticed tears shimmering in her eyes. "What?" she cried. "No one's around, you don't need to continue insulting me."

He actually felt bad for her. Guilt panged through his chest and he looked at her, _really _looked at her for the first time since he'd met her. She wasn't that ugly. In fact, for a girl who was choking out sobs, she was very good-looking.

_Wait, what?_

He shook himself mentally and tried to keep his cool. She had looked away from him again, sniffing quietly, and so he touched her cheek until her eyes met his. He saw hope in her eyes, which was enough to make him pull his hand away.

He had never been in love before, but he knew that when someone loved another, they had the same look in their eyes that Granger had when she looked at him.

It disgusted him and attracted him all at the same time.

"I know no one's around," he said quietly. "That's kind of the point."

She sniffed, narrowing her eyes at him, trying (in vain) to look like she hated him. "What are you talking about?"

"I had to act like my usual asshole self when everyone was walking by so they wouldn't suspect us."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Her heart leapt, already fantisizing about what he was going to say next. She was suddenly aware of how close he was, a mere six inches away from her face. Was he going to kiss her? Her pulse quickened as she squeaked, "Suspect us of... what?"

Draco chuckled, aware of how affected she was by him. When had Granger developed feelings for him? It was unthought of. If just a few days ago someone had told him Hermione Granger _liked _him, he would've wrinkled his face in disgust and said never, never in a million years.

And yet here they were. So close to each other, all he had to do was move forward and his lips would be pressed to hers. She would enjoy that. But would he?

No. _NO. _He couldn't. He mustn't.

Draco was surprised by the fact that he had to control his thoughts, that he had to restrain himself. He didn't want Granger, he shouldn't, why would he, where the hell would those feelings come from—what _feelings? _There are no feelings, feelings are for wankers. No feelings, especially not for some girl he was supposed to hate.

"You can't tell anybody about this," he breathed.

He smelled like... a man. Hermione took in his scent, his cologne mixed with the sharp minty ice of his breath. She leaned against the wall for support, almost passing out from his sexiness.

Draco placed a hand on her cheek and shook her gently. "Granger! Listen to me. You can't speak of this to anyone, not a single soul!"

"Speak of what?" she whispered.

He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. _Here goes nothing_.

"The Three Broomsticks. Tomorrow night. Seven o'clock. Don't be late." He stepped back, away from her, and the air returned to her lungs. He forced a smile that, in the end, turned out to be not so much _forced _as it was... _excited_. "It's a date."

Hermione's lips parted as she gasped quietly. "I'll—I'll be there," she stammered.

He started to walk away, but then he turned around one last time, pointed a finger at her and said, "Remember: not a word. To anyone."

"Okay," she said, still not sure if she was in a dream or not, "I won't tell anyone."

He left then, melting into the darkness. Hermione turned on her heel and ran to the Gryffindor common room. She had to tell Harry and Ron.


	4. Chapter 4

**Unbelievable**

**Chapter 4**

**A/N: **Please don't yell at me. I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. I am ashamed, so ashamed, gahh. But anyways, life goes on and so does this story! I'd like to point out that there is at least one (if not more) reference to a famous line in this chapter. I'll give you a golden star if you guess it right in a review ;) Enjoy!

* * *

"Not sexy enough," Harry said, placing a finger on his chin and looking Hermione over.

She felt very uncomfortable to say the least, as her best friends inspected her every inch while she tried on various outfits. Ron sat on the edge of her bed and Harry paced back and forth, occasionally circling her like an animal would its prey.

"Your curves have to be accentuated," he went on.

"What curves?" Hermione mumbled.

"These little cupcakes right here," he replied, grabbing Hermione's boobs. "Although they _could _use a little stuffing, if you know what I mean."

Hermione squealed, shoving him hard, and he fell to the ground as the pillow Ron threw hit him squarely in the face.

"Don't be a prick, Harry." Ron shook his head.

Harry sat up. "Oi! That is the second time this week that you've knocked me to the ground!" he yelled.

His friend replied smugly, "Between that and acting like a gay fashion consultant to Hermione, I'd say you could use a little manning up."

"Says the guy who takes a bubble bath after every Quidditch match."

"Hey!" Ron shouted indignantly. "They are peaceful and relaxing!"

Hermione was too nervous to put up with their arguing that night. So while they threw what they thought were 'burns' at each other, she grabbed her black leather purse and headed for the door. Just as she turned the handle, Harry called out, "Wait, Hermione!"

She turned to see that they were both standing now, looking like they were worried about her. Harry glanced at her outfit, his eyes skimming over her black pencil skirt and white button-up blouse, and Ron's gaze stayed fixed on her face: her soft, pink lips, her perfect skin, cute little nose and chocolate brown eyes, topped off with mascara-coated lashes. Her hair fell around her face in beautifully sculpted curls, and it shone small flecks of gold where the light touched it.

"You look fantastic," Harry said, smiling.

"Beautiful," Ron murmured.

They looked like two fathers watching their daughter go off to prom.

Hermione tried to smile, but she couldn't. The corners of her mouth dropped as she sighed, releasing the handle and leaning back against the door.

"I don't feel right," she said, running a hand across her forehead.

"Are you ill?" Ron asked.

"No, no, I mean... this date. It doesn't feel right to me."

Harry and Ron sat on the edge of Hermione's bed in unison and folded their arms. She noticed how tense they were.

Harry shrugged casually. "What's wrong about it? Nobody ever suspected you had feelings for _him_... maybe he's been hiding his own feelings just as well."

Hermione pressed her lips together. "I don't know," she said, "I'm still not so sure about it. It all seems very unlikely. Maybe I shouldn't go," she sighed.

"You're just nervous, 'Mione," Ron spoke up quickly. "But if you want a man's opinion,"—Harry scoffed as Ron called himself a man—"don't let him know just how much you fancy him. Try not to seem too eager. And be confident."

She sucked in a deep breath and smiled, trying to act like all the over-confident girls she'd seen around Hogwarts. He was right. She needed to change. She couldn't walk around acting like a nerdy bookworm and still manage to make Draco like her. Merlin knew why he'd even taken interest in her in the first place. _Think sexy_, she told herself. _Be Megan Fox_.

"Thanks, Ron." She turned to Harry and raised her eyebrows. "Any last words, Potter?"

He walked up to her, fiddled with her already-perfect curls and said firmly, "Make him want to munch your muffin!"

"I'm not even going to say anything to that."

"You just did."

"Go fuck yourself."

Gasp. "Since when does Hermione Granger _swear?"_

She raised her chin. "Since she started dating bad boys like Draco Malfoy."

Harry's and Ron's eyes never left her arse as she walked down the stairs and through the portrait hole. Once she had gone, they turned to each other and exchanged looks.

Harry whistled. "I've underestimated Hermione. Who knew she was so good at being sexy?"

"I did," Ron said quietly. "Since the day I met her."

* * *

And sexy she was.

Hermione didn't know she was capable of being so sexy and alluring. And yet here she was, strutting about the castle looking like a million bucks, heads turning as she walked by. Confidence surged through her, a sort of adrenaline rush that she'd never let herself experience before.

She'd always hidden behind books, afraid of being noticed, worried of what everyone would think of her. But now, a spark had been ignited deep inside of her. She knew she wasn't ugly, she'd always known, and other people must have noticed it, too. So why on earth should she hide?

If you got it, flaunt it, right?

That's what she told herself as she placed one foot in front of the other, her long legs attracting the attention of every boy she walked by. Even the girls were awed by Hermione's sudden change of attitude.

One guy jogged to keep up with her as he managed in a somewhat sexy voice, "Hey there. What's your name, love?"

She smiled mysteriously. "Hermione," she drawled.

He whistled under his breath. "Beautiful name."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You like that? You should hear my phone number."

He stopped walking, gaping at her like it was the first time he'd ever heard a girl use a pick-up line, and watched her walk away. A group of guys swarmed around him, asking what she'd said. Still watching her, he answered, "Let's just say, my nipples could cut through glass right now." And everyone's eyes darted to his chest.

Hermione kept walking, a cocky smile plastered on her face. She basked in the pleasure of being noticed, of being _wanted._

Draco stood waiting for her outside at the main entrance. When she showed up, he turned to her and huffed, "All right. Let's go," without once noticing her new look. They started walking down the path that led to Hogsmeade.

Hermione's smile dropped from her face. _Stay calm. Maybe he likes you for you, not your looks._

Draco' hand dropped to his crotch and he bit his lip. _Stay down, big guy. Stay cool. Potions, think of potions._

But that backfired, because then all he could think of was how she made his water boil.

* * *

"So."

"So."

"What's with the condom head?"

"How would you know what a condom looks like, virgin?"

"Who says I'm a virgin?"

Draco scoffed. That was answer enough.

She averted her eyes. "That doesn't mean I don't know what a condom looks like. So why the beanie?"

"I felt like wearing a beanie, okay?" he said harshly.

Hermione didn't flinch. She tried to reach across the table and pull it off, but he knocked her hand away, causing her to hit the boob of an old woman who was walking by.

The woman hit Draco in the leg with her cane, thinking he was the one who had touched her. She gave them both a dirty look as she walked away and they tried to stifle their grins.

Hermione wiped her hand on her skirt. "Very gelatinous," she said disgustedly.

"Someday your boobs will be like that."

She looked down at them. "But for now they're nice and perky."

Draco shrugged. "Meh. They're okay."

Hermione looked away, sucking in a deep breath, trying not to show him how much his indifference hurt her. _Don't let him know how much you fancy him_, Ron had said. With that in mind, she turned the table on him.

"Well, I'd hate to see what your prick will look like when _you're _old."

He opened his mouth, probably to say something either cocky or insulting, but she beat him to it.

Widening her eyes and tilting her head, she said, "Oh, wait. You can't see something that isn't there."

"Everyone knows my dick size is more than satisfactory."

"I'm sure Crabbe is well aware of that. You probably pound him every night, don't you?" She grinned. "Is that why he walks so funny?"

Draco couldn't help but return her smile. "No, he does that of his own accord."

They smiled at each other for while, and then realised they had let their guard down. They both looked away, and an awkward silence ensued. Draco cleared his throat and decided to take a leap of faith.

"You look nice," he said quietly.

Hermione's cheeks turned bright pink. "Thanks. You would, too... if you took off that stupid hat. You sort of look like a meth dealer."

Draco shook his head. "Since when are you this outgoing, Granger?"

"People don't usually take the time to get to know me," she said seriously. "They don't give me a chance."

The waitress set their drinks down. Draco took a swig of his Firewhiskey, smacked his lips together and sighed, "I know what you mean."

Hermione watched him silently. She hadn't realised they were so alike. Misjudged by others, never really given a chance to be who they really were. He must've been thinking the same thing, because he met her eyes and held them, and she felt a spark, something much deeper than her initial crush on him. Now, she liked him for more than just his looks.

She liked him for his potential.

Before either of them could say anything more, the sound of tables and chairs screeching across the floor overpowered all other noise in the restaurant. In the corner near Hermione and Draco's table, a small stage was conjured, and four middle-aged wizards stood around with instruments in their hands.

Music blared through the inn and everyone came alive at once. People hopped out of their seats, arms flailing about. Women pulled up their skirts and danced in circles while men jumped up and down, spilling their drinks on others and laughing heartily about it.

Hermione and Draco laughed, clapping along to the beat. Suddenly, a old woman appeared at their table and smiled goofily at Draco's beanie. She pulled it off of him with a loud _yippee! _and instantly melted into the crowd.

Hermione was about to turn her gaze to him when he grabbed her chin and pointed it toward the other end of the inn. "Look!" he yelled over the music. "That guy is taking his shirt off!" Then he clamped a hand over his forehead and ran to the bathroom.

* * *

It wouldn't come away.

He shut the water off and stared at his reflection. His forehead had turned red from all the scrubbing. He didn't understand why it hadn't come off yet. He _was _on the date, after all. Would he have to wait until the end of it for the tattoo to disappear?

"Teeheehee," someone giggled.

Draco spun round. He slowly walked up to a bathroom stall and stayed still. He heard the muffled sound of laughter coming from behind the door. He swiftly kicked it in.

As the door slammed open, Harry's aim faltered and his piss sprayed all over the floor. Draco jumped back and cried out. Harry frantically finished up his business and shoved his dick back into his pants. Then he spun on Malfoy.

"Fuck, you should know better than to disturb someone while they're takin' a wiz, Malfoy!" he yelled.

"I didn't know you were pissing!"

"What did you think I was doing?" Harry asked incredulously. "Making a _milkshake_?"

"Ew. Seriously, if you make milkshakes with _those _ingredients," he said, pointing at the toilet, "remind me never to come to your yard."

"What?"

"You know, the song?" Draco shook his hips and sang, "_My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard_..."

"I don't even know what that _means_."

"_No one_ knows what it means, but it's provocative!"

"My ass is provocative," Harry said, slapping his own booty.

Draco stared at him.

Harry clicked his tongue. "So what the fuck were you doing, busting the door open while I was in there?"

"What were _you _doing, laughing in there all by yourself?"

"I was laughing at you. I could see you panicking through the crack in the door."

Draco's eyes widened as he realised that his forehead was uncovered. He quickly turned away. Luckily, Potter hadn't seemed to have noticed anything. Draco almost scoffed at how oblivious he was. "Listen, Potter," he mumbled. "I need to cover up my forehead. Could you get me a hat or something?"

"Oh," Harry said apologetically, "have you finally realised that your forehead is too big?"

"_What? Really?" _Draco rushed over to the mirror. "Does everybody know about this?"

"Mostly, yeah. All right, Malfoy. I'll help you, on one condition."

Draco sighed in frustration. "What?" he asked, dreading Potter's response.

"After I bring you your hat, you go out there _without complaint_... and you kiss Hermione before the end of your date."

"I'd sooner drop dead."

"All right then," Harry said nonchalantly. "Have fun exposing your ginormous forehead to the world." He made his way toward the door.

"Fine!" Draco yelled. "Fine."

Harry smiled smugly and said, "Be right back."

* * *

"You fucker."

"You asked for a hat. I brought you a hat."

"That's not a hat."

"Sure it's a hat! A hat is a hat!"

"It's _not _a hat!"

"Stop saying _hat! _And just fucking put it on already!"

Draco snatched it from Potter placed it slowly on his head. He turned to the mirror once more and gasped, clutching his heart.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked.

"My heart. It has been attacked," Draco chocked out.

The other boy sighed and said, "Grow some balls, Malfoy."

"I can't grow balls, since I'm wearing _this!_" He pointed at the pink sequin sun hat he now had on. The sequins sparkled in the light, showing off Draco's feminine side.

Harry nodded in mock approval. "The black bow on top really brings the whole thing together."

"I fucking hate you, Potter. You couldn't have found anything better than this?!"

"I could've. It's just... no offense, but I don't really like you."

* * *

The rest of the date went on very awkwardly indeed. At a certain point, Draco reached his limit. He'd had enough of all the weird looks he was getting, and so he begged Hermione until she finally agreed that it was time to head back.

Hermione never asked about the hat. Sure, it was a bit of a turn-off, and sure it was very suspicious, but she had gotten used to weird things happening around her. She decided not to ask, and hoped that she wouldn't get dragged into whatever messy situation Draco was in.

They stopped just outside the main door.

"Tonight was fun," Hermione said sweetly.

"Definitely... interesting," Draco said. He couldn't help but smile at her. She looked too amazing in the moonlight.

"So, I guess I'll just head back to my dorm now," Hermione said slowly, and started to turn away. When he didn't answer, she stopped and turned back to him. She raised her eyebrows. "Don't you have anything to say?"

"Nope," Draco said after a moment's hesitation.

Hermione stared at him a while longer, then turned away once more, trying to hide her disappointment. She'd barely taken a step before Draco took her by the hand and spun her round to face him. His lips crashed onto hers as his right hand raked through her hair. He slipped his tongue in slightly, then pulled away achingly slow. Their lips made a soft smacking noise as they parted, and they were both left gasping for breath despite the short length of their embrace.

Draco looked down at her lips, but decided against kissing her again. Once would be enough to satisfy both Granger and Potter.

"Goodnight," he whispered in her ear. Just a moment later, he was gone. The over-confident Hermione had definitely left the building as she was left trembling outside on her own, the summer breeze feeling like a gust of winter air in comparison to the heat of Draco's touch.


End file.
